


The truth in his eyes

by awfully_yellow



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Canon Era, M/M, Magic Revealed, Mutual Pining, POV Arthur, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pining Arthur, Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin, arthur aint oblivious in this one yall, kind of, season 1/ season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24164923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awfully_yellow/pseuds/awfully_yellow
Summary: Merlin isn't a good servant, understatement of the century, really.Sometimes Arthur doesn't know why he lets him keep the job.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 610





	The truth in his eyes

Merlin isn't a good servant.

Understatement of the century, really. Somedays Arthur doesn't even know why he even let’s the buffoon keep the job; and no, Morgana, it isn't that Arthur has somehow “grown soft” or that Merlin "isn't even that bad”, or anything like that, because he  _ is _ . He really  _ is _ that bad.

He rarely ever shows up in time, leaving Arthur with either too little time to eat or just simply making him skip breakfast altogether. And when he  _ does  _ show up in time, he steals part of Arthur’s breakfast right under his nose. And  _ no,  _ Morgana, he doesn’t let his servant do so, it’s just that an eating Merlin is a rather quiet Merlin, and so early in the morning that seems like a rather easy election for him to make, really. 

He is both messy and careless, always forgetting one chore or another, even if sometimes Arthur doubts if he really forgets about such things or if he simply decides not to do them and later blame it on defective memory. He manages to make more messes than he cleans up and often misses and loses things.

Arthur could repeat it again and again, worst manservant of the five kingdoms.

But it is more than that.

**(i.)**

He talks back. 

He tells Arthur  _ exactly _ where he can put his bad mood whenever Arthur tries to take it out with him. He never lets Arthur, or anyone else for that matter, treat him poorly. He tells Arthur whenever he is being unreasonable (a fact that Morgana absolutely loves), whenever he is missing something or simply putting into words things that Arthur can't say out loud. 

He is ~~fearless~~ dumb, brash and stubborn, he doesn't bow down to people he doesn't respect and doesn't respect people that he feels don't deserve it, no matter their rank or the size of their lands, or even the gold sewed onto their clothes or resting over their heads. 

Arthur shudders thinking what Uther would say about that specific trait of his manservant and he fears the day that Merlin might stand up against Uther himself; because while he would like to think his manservant got enough self-preservation, he seriously doubts Merlin would submit even to the king of Camelot himself. And no, Arthur isn't worried about Merlin, he simply is looking out for his own image and how Merlin's actions could affect it. 

But Merlin isn't like that all the time, thought. Because Merlin talks back to him,  except  when Arthur is feeling angry or impotent. 

Sometimes Merlin lets him, sometimes Merlin does something wrong on purpose so Arthur can scream at him for it. Sometimes –whenever Arthur is stressed or angry but him being crown prince forces him to stay quiet–, Merlin drops something on purpose or makes a mistake while completing his duties, sometimes he gives him an easy way out. 

Arthur knows it is on purpose because his manservant simply stays there, silent and frozen like the decent servant he isn't until Arthur stops himself, feeling if not better then at least not at the verge of breaking down anymore. And then Merlin smiles softly and tells him he brought him wine, or ordered him a bath, or simply stands there, looking all too pleased for someone who just got screamed at.  He never mentions the screams in those cases, merely takes them. 

Sometimes Arthur can't help but think that even when he is bowing down and quietly taking in screams and reprimands that aren't even meant for him, Merlin doesn't quite look like a servant. 

**(ii.)**

He judges Arthur. 

He stays clearly angry at Arthur whenever he is rude or uncaring towards him or any of the other servants, playing knight even sometimes for Morgana with a conviction and valor that would be quite impressive if it wasn't so damn troublesome sometimes. 

For example, one time Arthur ran over a cleaning maid on his way to morning practice and, acting quickly on anger and irritation, had lashed out against her.

That day had started bad enough, with discouraging news from a knight party that had left Camelot days before with the task of gather information on the multiple attacks that some of the smaller villages had been victim of.  Since no one really knew what the creature was or how to kill, the king had been against Arthur joining the leaving party. Not even Morgana's rather level-headed arguments had changed Uther’s mind, and, when Arthur had not given up, the king had coldly told him off and demanded him to “stop acting like a spoiled child, less he desired to be treated as such”. 

Needless to say, Arthur had been fuming the whole night, to a degree that not even his manservant tried to help him blow some steam off or tried to voice the things that Arthur couldn't say, and simply decided to attend Arthur for the night and let him be. 

A few days later, he was feeling almost better, until he heard his guards talk outside his door, discussing among themselves the lack of news from the party. Arthur had left to the king's chambers intending to demand answers from him, but the man was cold, not unlike a few nights before, and it left Arthur feeling childish merely for insinuating that his knights’ lives were not expendable.  At the end, Arthur not only was left feeling angry and impotent, but he was also late for morning practice, a fact that the king himself pointed out. It all left him fuming while rushing through the corridors, Merlin hot on his heels, still not talking less Arthur lashed out there in the corridor for all the castle to hear. 

But maybe it would have been better if he did, because Arthur crashed against a cleaning maid and lashed out against  _ her _ . 

Later, he would not be able to even remember what he said to her, but he had known when he was done, panting from the effort and the bottled emotions from days before, that it had been particularly vile since by the time he was done both Merlin and the chambermaid had been quiet, both pale and looking like they had just seen a ghost. The chambermaid's eyes began filling up, her lip trembling with the effort to look unaffected and Arthur couldn't bear it anymore– he turned on his heel and continued rushing to the courtyard. 

He ignored the fact that Merlin had stayed back, could still hear him speaking softly to the maid, probably excusing Arthurs behaviour without giving away too much information, or maybe even trying to crack a joke or two to lighten the moment. Arthur didn't know, and he didn't stayed long enough to find out. 

Merlin stayed mad at him the rest of that day, constantly snapping at him and ignoring him, often forcing him to repeat himself two or three times before finally "hearing" him. Some tries later, Arthur simply chose to walk over and get his own water rather than asking for it repeatedly only to be publicly ignored by his servant. 

It was fairly obvious his knights didn't approve of his behavior but most of them knew better than to try and meddle. 

Most of them.

Herbert was one of the young newer knights. He was honorable and even if he had lacked in some of the finest points of training at first, he had gotten much faster in the few months under Arthur’s training. But he was a little hot-headed and too eager to prove his our valor to those in upper levels than him. Had Arthur known the knight before, they would have been rather comfortable with one another. But that was another Arthur, one all too comfortable in throwing knifes at servants for his own amusement. That prince didn’t exist anymore, although it seemed like recent development could seriously prove him wrong. 

Herbert advanced onto Merlin, who had been polishing some of Arthur’s pieces of armour. He could see, far as he was, that Merlin was well aware of Herbert getting closer, the heavy and intentful steps of the knight not leaving room for doubts. But even if his shoulders tensed, Merlin remained with his head down, still ignoring those around him. 

“How dare you?” 

Merlin finally looked up, “I’m afraid you will have to be more specific.” The lack of title there was deliberate and when Herbert lifted his head, Arthur finally understood. 

He stepped in, almost too late and grabbed Herbert’s wrist hard, “I would reconsider that.” 

It wasn't the first time that he had jumped in to defend his servant from himself, unfortunately, but it might change their dynamic at best and alert his father of their found closeness at worst. But he didn’t gave it more than a moment’s attention. 

Herbert tensed under his touch, but he couldn’t bring himself to disobey his prince so blatantly in the middle of the courtyard. Ironic how his servant could, but not a noble. 

Talking about his servant, Merlin was still in the same place as before, looking for all intents and purposes like a man who would not back down from a fight. He stood his ground like he had done many months ago, back when he was just a stranger he had no qualms about beating around and throwing to the dungeons. Funny how things could change so fast.  


  
He shoved Herbet away, grabbed Merlin by the arm and basically dragged him back into the castle. It wasn't an unusual view, and nobody made attempt to stop them in their way. 

Later, in Arthur's chambers, the prince couldn't take it anymore, "I get it, okay?" he said, not bothering to specify what he was talking about, he doubted any of them had been able to think about much else that day, "I get it. Nobility should not use servants as a way to blow steam off, I was wrong for the way I acted this morning and I will apologize to Margaret tomorrow as soon as I see her, okay?"

The speech had gotten his manservant's attention but at the last part, Merlin turned around seemingly shocked, "What did you say?"

"Seriously, Merlin" Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead, "the least you could do is listen to me when I apologize. What else are those gigantic ears of yours for?” 

"No, not that, –although I was, in fact, paying attention–, no, I meant, how did you called her?"

"Margaret?" Merlin had tried teaching him a good part of the staff's names, but most of them had never truly gotten memorized by him. He tried but it was still a work on process. "Isn't that her name?"

"It is." Merlin spoke slowly, which honestly baffled Arthur to no end. What was his manservant even about?

“Did you manage to hit your head when I wasn’t looking,  _ Mer _ lin?” 

Merlin seemed to shock himself out of a trance and smiled softly at him while he failed to take the bait. Instead, he turned to look directly at Arthur for the first time since that same morning, "I'm sorry, my lord, it seems like I owe you an apology as well.” 

Merlin only ever called him that when making fun of the title. He had the uncanny ability to take great and mighty titles and turn them into pokes with a careless smile and a mocking tone.  But, no, his manservant was looking much too serious right now, looking at Arthur with that mix of awe, respect and pride that he usually displayed while in battle or when Arthur talked with his knights before a fight.

Because that was the thing, Merlin judged him, way more, and more comfortably than a servant should be able to judge their master.  Except  in moments like this, when he seemed to show Arthur unshakeable faith. 

"You know her name. Margaret's. You aren't like those nobles that treat their subjects like animals or objects, you actually listen to them, learn their names and," he smiled a terribly fond smile that was turning Arthur's insides to mush, "apologize to them as well. It seems that, in the heat of the moment, I forgot about that, so I must apologize, my lord." 

Arthur knew when someone looked at him searching for a future king. His father did it continuously, calculating eyes over his every moment in a way that had him acting more proper, holding his head up higher, making his voice sound stronger, even without him meaning too. Like a reflex that he couldn't fight.

And Uther was not the only one, the more he grew up the more people looked at him and imagined a crown over his head, so he knew Merlin was going through the same in that very moment.

But when nobility measured him with calculating eyes, Merlin met his gaze head on, showing only trust and pride. It made his head spin a little bit in wonder, that such faith could be granted to him, so he was quite happy that the late hour let him play it off as tiredness. 

“I shouldn’t give you motives to doubt so.” He settled up saying. It seemed like a good moment to disperse the serious air of the night with a joke, but the summer air is comfortable in his chambers and the tension of he past days seemed to have catched up with him. 

The apologies were said and done though, and Merlin quietly helped him change into his night clothes. 

He was putting away the dirty clothes when he asked, without looking at him, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Granted, his manservant was usually less direct in situations like this but somehow Arthur couldn't find it in himself to be mad about that. So he complied, he talked to Merlin's back, knowing full well that his servant was purposely looking away trying to look busy to at least give him some kind of privacy. The thought almost made him smile.

“It's just… my father, what he said about the knights, the way he talked about them as if the fact that they might not come back didn't bother him in the slightest.” He draged a hand down his face, “It felt like we were sending deers to the wolves just for the sake of it.” 

“'We'? Excuse me, my lord, but I didn't realize it was your decision to send those parties, I thought you had wanted to go with them.” Merlin said, “Oh, but I must be mistaken.”

“Come off it, Merlin, you know what I mean.”

His manservant finally droped the boot he had been cleaning half-heartedly to look at him, “Arthur, you didn't send them, especially not to get hurt or die.”

“But I didn't stop them either, I didn't go with them.”

“Although not for lack of trying” Merlin must had seen the lack of conviction in his face because his own face hardened, “Arthur, look at me, do your knights need you to act as a nanny and go with them in every mission? Are they not knights of Camelot? Don't they practice every morning with you as their leader to be able to live up to the challenge?”

Sometimes Arthur hated it when his servant made so much sense, “Aren't you supposed to be an idiot?” 

Merlin smiled at that, “Not really, but you like calling me that because it makes you feel superior” he said but failed to let Arthur change the course of their conversation, “Arthur, you must know you had given your knights your best, you must know you had given _ Camelot  _ your best, and I know you will continue doing it, whenever it is here in the castle or out there in the woods. You know that, right?”

Somehow, Merlins hand had found its way to Arthurs shoulder and suddenly his manservant was  _ right there _ and his eyes, full of seemingly unshakeable conviction, were right there too. 

**(iii.)**

Merlin touches him. 

Which, granted, isn't that bad considering that’s pretty much part of his job. But still, the way Merlin touches him isn't exactly the way a servant might touch royalty. Servants are required to wake up their masters, not to physically push them out of their beds, not to put their warm hands on their naked shoulders and backs.

Servants aren't supposed to massage royalty’s backs after a long day of practice, with strong, calloused hands moving surprisingly careful over what feels like miles of warm flesh. They aren't supposed to fondly smooth the wrinkles in their masters clothes and look at them in awe. Servants aren't supposed to shove while laughing, they aren't supposed to playful slap or punch their masters, aren't supposed to grab the wrists of nobility in excitement to show them something, and then fail to let them go. Aren’t supposed to playfully bump into their masters while serving them wine, or to caress their hair in the name of helping them wash it. 

Servants aren’t even supposed to even  _ enter _ in their master’s personal space as Merlin does, barging in like he has got the right, like it is his place to do so. 

So Merlin touches him a lot more than a servant should. Except when Arthur wants it. 

After his little speech, Merlin is standing right there, into Arthur’s personal space, a practice so usual in their routine that it feels not weird at all, not as weird as it  _ should  _ feel. Because, while Merlin might not know better, Arthur does. Arthur knows that he should ask Merlin to step back when he is so close, to take his manservant’s hands off him or move his body away from the contact, but he doesn't. 

He doesn't because there are moments like this one, too charged to ignore, when Arthur doesn't want Merlin to move away, when Arthur  _ wants _ to be touched. And maybe something shows in his face because suddenly Merlin is steeping back and turning to face the ground, suddenly his hand is back in his side but Arthur still feels the warmth imprint of it on his shoulder. 

Merlin tells him something about some chores back in Gaius chambers and how he must  _ leave right now, you know how Gaius loves to have me clean his leech tank _ , but Arthur is only half listening as his manservant goes out the door, leaving Arthur standing alone in the middle of his chambers, with the candles still alight and his boots still dirty by the bed. 

And Merlin might be a terrible servant but even he wouldn't normally disregard his chores so shamelessly, but Arthur lets it go because today he was also a terrible master. 

**(iv.)**

Merlin is careless. 

That much is fairly obvious from the way that he walks, tripping over anything from things he failed to pick up from the floor to even empty air that he would try to pass as a root or fallen branch.  He drops the things he is carrying, anything from swords and shields to food and water, and often loses things only to find them days later. Arthur can’t remember for his life the last time Merlin served him wine without dropping at least a few drops of it over his sleeve, if there was even a time that happened.  


There was one time, way back in the beginning, weeks after Merlin had drank poison for him that Arthur had to go a few days into the woods searching for some children that hopefully had simply gotten lost (there were worst scenarios and while everyone knew, they were not discussed out loud for respect of the worried parents). 

Merlin had apparently gotten better, he no longer looked like death itself –pale as a corpse and frail enough that a strong wind might blow him away–, but Arthur still worried.

In the end, he saw his chance when Merlin dropped some swords on their way to practice. He began reprimanding him, confident in the way his manservant was gonna talk back and give him a reason to–

"That's it, a few hours in the stocks should work like a charm", it seriously wasn't much, but a few hours were enough for Arthur and the knights to finish getting ready and leave the citadel, a few hours were enough for his manservant to stay in the castle, away from the woods and whatever lurked in them. 

He saw the exact moment his manservant realized this as well because his mouth fell open in shock and indignation. 

"You are doing it on purpose!" He cried, swords all but forgotten in the floor, "You can't do that!"

Unfortunately, their noise was gaining attention and while his plan was working, he didn't exactly want Merlin to be punished more than strictly necessary for him to get away.

He grabbed Merlin's wrist to stop him from pointing at Arthur's face, it wasn't gaining him any points, "You'll find that nobility are, in fact, able to do exactly that and more." 

It was meant to be a warning but it came out more of a thread which obviously only served to wind up his manservant even more, "Yeah? If you must know, my lord, not even nobility is invincible. Don't forget who serves you your wine." 

Now,  _ that _ was grounds of treason and while Merlin was certainly annoying, Arthur didn't fancy him getting hurt, "Careful before  _ someone _ gets you flogged." 

Merlin only smiled without humor, “Would love to see you  _ try, _ my lord.” 

And, really, it was a testament to how much in denial Arthur was back then that he could successfully pass off the warm feeling under his skin at Merlin's words as irritation and nothing more. He ganked Merlin close and told him, as calm as he could, “I didn't meant me,” while subtly nodding to where a member of his fathers council was unsuccessfully trying to make it seem like he wasn't eavesdropping. While that stopped his manservant from complaining further, he was still visibly angry and stomped his way to the courtyard. 

Arthur later learned from Morgana that Merlin had somehow gotten free from the stocks and tried following the party, only to be stopped when one of the stablehands saw him saddling a horse. Morgana herself had saved him from getting flogged and instead negotiated a night in the dungeons. 

In the end, they didn't speak about it again. The only sign that it even happened was the reverend way his manservant treated him before he had to go on an expedition ever since then. 

Because Merlin was careless, except when Arthur had to leave. 

Those days he was the picture of the perfect servant, quiet and docile, he tried doing everything on time and if not perfectly then at least acceptable. He held his head down and didn’t talk back, he walked behind Arthur instead of beside him. He wasn’t completely quiet because that seemed to be his limit but he did a great effort at it nevertheless, biting his lip and hyperfocusing less he accidentally ended up opening his mouth in the wrong moment, as he was so fond of doing on any normal day. 

He didn’t give Arthur any excuse to leave him behind. 

And now was not the exception. When the party of knights failed to come back or send any news whatsoever, Uther had no other choice than to send another party, this time with Arthur leading it. Merlin seemed tense from the moment Arthur told him about the news, his whole demeanor changing in a blink. Arthur would complain about the way he did not receive that same careful treatment any other time, but he could see the tense way Merlin carried himself the hours before Arthur had to leave, the way he would only calm himself again when they were both leaving the citadel, Arthur wanted to think it ironic, the way Merlin was more worried of getting left behind than of following Arthur into the woods. 

**(v.)**

Merlin always looked at him in the eye. 

Since early in the morning, looking carefully into his eyes to make sure Arthur was actually awake and not gonna drop back down into the bed the moment Merlin turned his back to him (which had only had happened a few times, so Merlin should have more faith in him), to late into the night when telling Arthur goodnight, too quietly and too fondly that it physically hurt in the soft candle hues of the night. 

Arthur could be ordering Merlin around all day and Merlin could follow his instructions as well as his clumsy ways let him, but the way they looked into each other's eyes when talking, the way they walked side by side, it made them look like equals. 

Arthur could not be called an open person by any means of the word, and he definitely was no poet but even he had to admit there was a certain vulnerability in letting yourself be seen.  He didn’t even try lying to himself, telling himself that Merlin could see the way Arthur looked at him and not know what was going through his head. Not with the way Merlin looked back. But for all their openness, there was still a certain distance that they couldn’t cross, not with the things between– the class difference and the secrets and the lies. 

Because Merlin always looked at him in the eye, except when he was doing magic. 

It took them two days to arrive to where the knights were supposed to be searching for the beast. By the time they got there, it was still the afternoon and the sun was still high on the sky. 

They found most of the knights there, still too injured to be able to make their way back to Camelot, but receiving the care from the grateful villagers. Talking with the people took a few hours, but they were cooperative and even invited them to eat and rest. They wanted the beast gone as much as the knights did, since not only them had gotten injured, but several men from the village had also tried their luck against the beast and were now bedridden. Not many had had the opportunity to completely visualize it, but reuniting the multiple tales, the knights had been able to form a somewhat coherent visual. 

“An alke?” Arthur was getting tired of magical beasts, why couldn't it be a normal, plain wolf or some human bandits?

“Like a gryphon but without the wings” right, like that was supposed to make him feel any better about the situation, “and I said that it might be possible, but we can't know for sure until we see it ourselves.” Merlin replied. He seemed tense again. 

In the past, Arthur had incorrectly attributed his nerves to a hatred or fear towards magic. 

It had been so easy. Merlin always got a little quiet, looking almost like he was going to be sick whenever magic was involved, and Arthur's personal history with magic always helped him fill in the blanks wrongly. 

Until a lucky strike too many, when he saw a girl falling hard from a tree and heard a disguinting noise when she hit the ground, directly over her own arm. His manservant was beside her in a moment and Arthur didn't think anything about it since he was the physician’s apprentice; still, no amount of apprentice would explain the way the girl stood up waving an arm that for any means and purposes should have been broken. 

That was only the beginning, and it certainly wasn't enough proof to say anything, even if he knew that as a prince he needed only say “sorcerer” to have Merlin in a pyre. He couldn’t try to bring himself to do so.  After that Arthur began to pay closer attention to all their close calls, to the way magical enemies seemed to be defeated against all logic. To the well timed coincidences and miracles. Suddenly, a lot of things began making sense, but still, he said nothing. 

Now, back into the woods and having found the creature, he is glad, and not for the first time, about not having called Merlin out on his lies. Most of the knights laid around the woods, most of them having been thrown by the powerful eagle-like arms of the beast and more than a few of them having been grazed by its claws. Arthur has no time or opportunity to check on them, but he dearly wishes them to be safe and just unconscious. 

When the beast throws itself over him, he isn't even scared and, sure enough, his arm moves itself like it’s got a mind of its own and his sword seems to glow blue into the night. The same sword impales itself deep into the creature's chest when moments before no blade seemed to even make a scratch on its skin. 

Well, Merlin has surely gotten a lot flashier. But, throwing the now dead beast aside, alive yet again when all chances seemed against him, he guesses he can't complain too much. 

A moment later Merlin is upon him, moving his face from side to side, frantic, searching for any injuries that might have had happened when the alke jumped over him and Merlin lost sight of him. 

In the heat of the moment, they can have this. He can have Merlin’s hands over him and can ignore the way he, too, reaches to touch him as well, they can allow themselves a closeness where it's dark and there's nobody there to know, to see. In moments like this they can name this thing because them and give it the title of “relief” even if it so much more.

But there's an end to everything, so when he is satisfied with Arthur’s health, he finally let’s go of him and congratulates him in his swordsmanship while he drops to his knees beside the rest of the knights and declares them all alive, one by one. 

The night passes through like many before, with Arthur acting like he doesn't realize Merlin is using his magic to close some injuries and that it is merely luck that got them all alive by the end of the night, that his way around a sword is what saved them and that there was no recriminating blue light whatsoever. 

They make their way back to the village, and Arthur acts like Merlin being suddenly tired is to be expected and he even jokes about his manservant fainting because of the fear and sees the tension from before leave him completely, and suddenly all is normal again. 

**(+1)**

But there was a moment, right after the alke had died and Merlin had ran to his side, where he saw his manservant’s face and could read something there, plain as day. 

Arthur knew Merlin cared for him, he had to be an idiot not to realize and he wasn't, but it was different knowing it –knowing that no sorcerer would stay in the heart of Camelot, where every day alive was a feature on itself, without something important keeping them there–, and seeing it in the terrified face of his servant, of his closest friend, and feeling it upon his skin where he touched him, as if trying to convince himself that he was, in fact, okay. 

Right after the class difference had forced them to step away from one another once again and Merlin had tensed while congratulating, like mentally praying for him to not ask questions that he couldn't answer, there was a moment where Arthur thought “What is it isn't class difference at all?” 

And, really, there's too much at stake and he shouldn't bet all of it on a mere hunch, but he knows that the creatures won’t stop, the sorcerers won’t stop, the attacks on his person won't stop and maybe, maybe next time will be the last. Maybe next time they won't succeed, or maybe –he shudders– maybe next time someone else will catch Merlin. There's too much at stake but, also, there could be too little time, maybe this will be his last chance and he would be a coward not to take it. 

And because Pendragons are anything but cowards, he waits till they are back into the village, in a room that the grateful villagers got him to rest, to say, “That was close” 

It's a testament to how tired Merlin is that he doesn't tense again, or maybe he simply has gotten too confident, “It was, but luckily your skills didn't fail you; and here I was thinking all that training was merely a way to show off.” 

Arthur doesn't take the bait, “‘Luckily’… do you really think it was luck, Merlin?”

Something on his tone might warn his manservant off, because he seems way more awake when he turns from where he had been packing their dirty clothes, “Of course not, Arthur, I never doubted on you and your knights defeating the beast. Is this about what we talked the other night?” Trust Merlin to jump from one concern to another. 

“No,” he sighs, “Do you trust me, Merlin?”

“Depends” Merlin smiles his way, jokingly. Arthur doesn't return it, so he adds, “You know I do, why else would I follow you into a dark forest in the middle of the night expressly to search for a beast that had hurt a bunch of Camelot´s knights?”

“So, you trust me with your life?”

Merlin comes up to sit beside him on the bed, “If this is about me staying in Camelot next time, I want you to know that if you leave me behind I might actually get flogged or something, not all nobility has a penchant for my amazing sense of humor.” 

He wants to rip his hair, “Just answer the question, Merlin” He hopes he doesn't sound as desperate as he feels but he can always blame it later on tiredness. 

“Yes, Arthur, I do trust you with my life.” If Arthur didn't know Merlin's eyes glow golden when doing magic, he might have thought the reason he hid them was because the truth was always displayed there. 

“And with your secret?” a whisper, but that's all it takes for his servant to jump away from the bed, as if it had gotten suddenly gone up in flames, but Arthur grabs his wrist before he can run away, “Please, Merlin” Nobility wasn't meant to beg, but Merlin’s abysmal respect for the class order must be rubbing off on him. 

Merlin's face falls down and Arthur can feel him shaking from where he had grabbed him, “I'm so sorry” he says, “I would never hurt you, you know that, right? I wouldn't, I would rather die.”

“I know, I know, Merlin, I'm not mad” Merlin’s knees seem ready to give out so Arthur pulls him back to the bed, “I know, I saw you, you saved us, I know you wouldn't hurt us.”

“I’m so sorry, Arthur, so sorry, so–” Merlin looks ready to continue the half-coherent apologizes for an indefinite amount of time, and it makes Arthur wonder if he would have been ever ready to tell him himself. 

“I know, I know.” He says.  


“I didn’t want to lie to you, you have to know that. But I couldn’t afford to be sent away!” Because obviously that’s what would have him worried. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me if I didn’t give you a reason to but I didn’t want to shove you into that position.” 

“But I am.” 

Merlin gulps, eyes still not meeting his, “I’m sorry.” 

“I have been in this position for a few months, at least,” Merlin’s head shoots up at that, “I have already made that decision, do you want to know what did I chose?” 

He lets himself be vulnerable, lowers his barriers so that Merlin could not misunderstand even if he tried. He never once thought a servant might make him an honest man, and yet– 

Well, nobody ever dared call Merlin a good servant anyway. 

“What did you chose?” Merlin looks at him like he is an apparition, face full of wonder and adoration– greater kings than him have died without been at the receiving end of such eyes. It is a humbling thought. 

“You, Merlin– I chose to protect your secret as you protect my life and people, and–” This is it. He could be wrong, he could have seen things where he wanted to see them, he could be getting ahead of himself. But if the thread of execution could not drive Merlin away, he has to remain positive that his feelings won’t either. “I chose to protect you as well because if something came to happen to you, I would surely die as well.” 

Merlin smiles but it’s not the smile he wants to see, as this one is happy but guarded, “Yeah, you wouldn’t last a day without me.” 

“No, Merlin–” he huffs, “I mean, even if I didn’t die, being away from you, it would end me. Do you get it? If I lost you, I would cease to exist as I am.” 

“You are a part of me, Merlin. Do you understand?” 

It is subpar, as confessions go, but something must have reached Merlin because he tears up, and– there it is, the beautiful smile he wanted to see. “Oh, Arthur, you have no idea.” 

It is when Merlin throws his arms around him, laughing openly out of joy, finally  _ there _ , without the distance of secrets and lies that he can find the courage to say, “I love you.” 

He thought it obvious, but Merlin still freezes in his arms. “I love you too.” Choked but confident, forceful as a challenge. Trust Merlin to not subdue even in the vulnerability of emotion. 

He knows, as he closes the space between them with Merlin meeting him halfway, that things will change very little. That he will still be half shoved out of the bed every morning, that he will still reiterate by throwing something at Merlin, that Merlin will still laugh and duck even if they both know it’s been awhile since Arthur actually tried to hit him. 

He is still prince and Merlin is still a servant, still safe in the anonymity of service, still painfully loyal against all logic– and that doesn’t change simply because there is a new understanding between them. 

He knows that Merlin will still talk back, and judge him, will still be utterly careless until there’s danger, will still look at him in the eye and walk by his side. 

But maybe the way Merlin touches him now, warm hands under his shirt as he had never dared before, means that Merlin will now actually  _ talk  _ to him, instead of moving behind his back to stop the danger of the week, that he will be open with the bruises upon his skin instead of saying he fell down the stairs after a particular night of drinking, will look at him and let himself be seen as well. 

Maybe one day he could leave behind his rather pitiful butchering of service and instead stand by his side. It is a far fetched dream, but one he wishes dearly. 

And maybe, until then, they can have this. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fic so please feel free to give me pointers or constructive criticism! 
> 
> Thanks for reading hope you liked it !!
> 
> edit: may 19
> 
> i wrote another merthur work and i would like to ask if anybody wants to be my beta and have a look at it  
> if i dont find anyone ill still publish it tomorrow tho :D


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